Closure
by PHLover213
Summary: "No matter how far you run, no matter where you hide, it is my life's duty to find you, Christine Daaé, and make you mine." A sequel to the musical with possibly a few Leroux, etc references thrown in. Like Love Never Dies, only completely different.
1. Mistakes

**It seems a necessary practise, dear reader, to do a sequel phic. Inevitable, you must admit. I like to go against the grain. So I'm not guaranteeing who will live, who will die, and who ends up together. I will gladly accept this as opposed to the already notorious Love Never Dies.**

**Tell me if you hate it.**

**Enjoy.**

**xxxx**

Six months passed before I dared even think of him or speak his name. And when I did my fiancé looked up from the morning paper with such shock in his warm blue eyes that I jolted a little in my seat. But slowly, I, Christine Daaé – soon to be de Chagny – repeated myself. "Erik . . . do you think he's dead?"

"I hope so." he said thoughtlessly.

"Raoul!" I replied, looking hurt. Raoul glanced up and shot me an apologetic look. But his eyes quickly hardened. I knew he hated the other man . . . He sighed and tiredly rubbed his eyes. "You remember that the man – oh, I mean the _beast_ – tried to kill me on no less than two occasions? Why are you dignifying him with a moment of your thoughts?"

I hated to deceive him, truly I did. I didn't want to say that I thought I needed to go back for a final goodbye. I'd put him through so much pain. "It's n- nothing really. N- I- forget it . . ."

"I'll be glad to."

That night I waited until the sounds from his room stopped and snuck in to his room to make sure he was really asleep. I kissed his forehead gently and pulled a shawl over my frail shoulders. And I walked. We were situated in a small flat in the Boulevard des Capucines, not far from the Opera. I wondered whether _he_ was still there. I hoped so, God knew why. He deserved goodbye, _closure_ . . . but deep down I knew that of all the things I could give Erik, an ending to his tragedy of a story wasn't one of them.

Quietly I moved under the Opera Populaire, my eyes darting about nervously. I stopped at the gondola and a few tears ran down my face as the memories of that first night when a man's soul was bared to me – and I pushed him away – rushed back. An angel fell that fateful night and I knew, I _knew_ I was solely responsible. I felt remorse. Slowly my cries grew shamefully in intensity and I sniffled in an attempt to stifle myself.

"Angels never weep." The voice, the perfect, damning, sensual, beautiful voice, broke through the dark. I stopped abruptly and saw a shifting in the thick darkness. My brow furrowed. "What brings you back to Hades, Persephone?"

Now I felt severely stupid. I bit my lip and took in a few huge wracking breaths. "I . . . I . . . well . . ."

I heard a bitter, caustic chuckle. "Could it be that indecisive little Christine Daaé doesn't know what she's doing? _Mon Dieu,_ call the papers . . ."

I hung my head. "I shouldn't have come."

"No," he said, approaching gingerly, tilting up my chin and giving the vaguest of smiles. "But now you are here . . . let us not waste the time we have, my darling Christine."

He was kissing me before I knew what was happening.

**xxxx**

It wasn't fast, it wasn't rushed, it wasn't a fumble as two inexperienced people attempted to simply _sleep together,_ no, it was not so crass and meaningless as that. It was the uniting of two entwined souls and it was the most beautiful experience I ever had, with the ugliest person I ever knew. It hurt me when I woke to that familiar bed, empty. A note was the only consolation, an elegant hand in blood red ink:

_Forgive and forget . . . I will always remember you._

For someone that had always been a monster, an inhuman, transcendent being, something so human was strange to read, but I held it to my chest as if it might morph to my heart and bring him back to me. Useless, and stupid.

I looked around the makeshift home in the cellar one last time before dressing and leaving.

Truly, I would never have expected to see him again.

How wrong I was.

**xxxx**

When I returned home Raoul looked sick with worry, and I remembered that no matter what I felt for the other, I loved him dearly. I tried to smile and shamefully, when he asked where I had been, I said: "The cemetery . . . I'm nervous."

He smiled and took my hands. "Don't be. Don't you want this?"

I returned the smile wholeheartedly, meaning what I said as I murmured: "With all my heart."

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and then to a year.

It was eight and a half months after the day I was married that I realised my huge mistake. My life would never be the same.

**xxxx**

**Yeah, it'll follow some themes. But not all of them. And by all means add it to alerts and such, but I won't actually update this for a long while. I hope you enjoyed this first little snippet. And there will be more.**

**Until next time, mes amis,**

**Millie**


	2. Changes

**Enjoy!**

**xxxx**

I hate feeling helpless. But as I stared at my beautiful daughter, something was seriously amiss. There was what seemed to be a scar under her right eye, and the eye itself was a lighter shade than the left. I stroked her short black hair from her face and she babbled quietly. Her voice was like music, and I had thought it was just me. Though her voice, I discovered from compliments she'd received over the short months of her life, was unobtrusive and gentle. She was beautiful. But I was her mother. I had to think that. That didn't change the fact that it was undoubtedly true.

Raoul loved her. He seemed to look past the fact that she looked absolutely nothing like him. He simply adored her like a good father would. I'd like to think I was a good parent. It was difficult. Everything became difficult. Raoul's overbearing sisters were ashamed of his marriage to me and what it would bring to the Chagny family. Raoul insisted that he loved me anyway. He vowed to take care of Lotte and I through everything.

Oh, yes, her name was Charlotte de Chagny. She was almost like a relic of the days that were long gone . . . the days we ached for. I was in love with Raoul, truly I was, but thoughts of Erik plagued me at times when I was alone. I wondered if he was alive. I wondered whether he still thought of me. I wondered why he left. That was the most painful thought. I woke up that morning long ago full of love, adoration and acceptance. And I had expected to get that love back. But instead I was told to forget the man I thought I loved.

"Are you ready, darling?" Raoul smiled as he cupped my face and I looked up from my daughter's face to meet his beautiful green eyes.

He said, shortly after Lotte was born, that we were going to escape his family. And we were about to. We were going to an English-speaking country where nobody would know of the Vicomte and his scandalous marriage to the girl a few papers called an "ambitious ballet rat".

We were going to America.

"Of course." I replied, standing and adjusting Lotte's position. She reached out to Raoul and he smiled and took her from my arms. "When are we leaving?"

"Ten minutes, beloved." he said, smiling and walking out of the house.

I allowed a grin to creep over my face as I followed and we went to our future.

**xxxx**

"Do you want to sing again?" Raoul asked uncertainly one Sunday morning as we lay in bed. Eight years had passed and Raoul was an investor in business. He hated it when work meant he had to leave, though he said it was worth it to provide for his loves.

I adjusted my position against him, turning to look at his face. "I- I'm not sure I could."

"I understand." he said quietly.

I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Thank you, Raoul."

He sighed contentedly and we lay in comfortable silence for a few moments until a shrill cry broke the serenity.

"Mama!"

Lotte threw the door open and ran, smiling, to our bed. Raoul lifted her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Good morning, _ma petite_." he greeted her fondly, the adoration of his whole heart obvious in his eyes. "How did you sleep?"

Her brow wrinkled. "I had a nightmare."

I sat up and she wriggled in between us. "You could have come in to see us, my love." I said, stroking her hair gently from her face. "Why didn't you?"

She frowned. "It's my problem, Mama."

Lotte had inherited her father's strong-headed determination and his anger in times of stress.

Though I kept trying to imagine it was entirely unique and was something dormant in either my personality or Raoul's. I knew deep down it wasn't, but I tried to forget as much as I could. I didn't want to think that I had betrayed Raoul like that. Sometimes the guilt overrode me, made me feel sick to the stomach. But other times I almost forgot _him_ and my infatuation with him, and all he was.. I convinced myself it was his _music_ that I loved and not he, the person. Such a thing was too much scandal for a Vicomtesse to bear.

". . . A- and there was a monster. He was big and dark and . . . he _knew_ me." Lotte's words pulled me from my reverie.

Raoul and I shared a glance.

"Dreams aren't reality, sweetheart." Raoul told her gently. She smiled.

"I wish they were, sometimes."

"Oh?" I smiled at the devilish amusement in his eyes. "And why is that, my Little Lotte?"

"I dream of music _sometimes_." she replied haughtily as if she hadn't been talking about her childish fears only a moment before.

She had begun to play the piano, though Raoul said he would wait until she was at least ten to get her a tutor. There was only so much I could teach her. Instruments were never a particular skill of mine. Though she was anxious to soak up all the knowledge I had.

"Like Mama, Lotte?" Raoul asked, grinning.

"_Just_ like Mama, Papa."

I smiled and rose from bed as my beautiful husband wrapped my beautiful daughter in his arms.

**xxxx**

Our days were spent peacefully. We were out of the heart of the city, though, due to his social stature, Raoul went to social functions and was quick to make friends and a reputation as the handsome young French nobleman that got along with everyone. People were naturally drawn to him, they loved him, he was charismatic and threw out this natural light, a natural glint in his smile that made everyone love him.

Lotte abhorred parties. When they were thrown in our house she would hide upstairs, shoving her nose into a book. On such a night, I went up to her bedroom and gingerly knocked on the door. I almost sensed her scowl as I heard the rustling of a turned page.

"Yes, Mama?"

I chuckled as I opened the door. "How did you know?"

"Your footsteps are pretty."

I raised an eyebrow. "Thank you, darling."

She gave an obligatory nod and I looked at the slight deformity on her face. It hadn't changed since birth. It wasn't harsh or red, it was simply . . . there. The skin looked old and worn. Exactly like a scar. "How long until I can come down?" she asked impatiently.

"Now, now, little one, it's time for bed. That's why I'm here."

She scowled, her brow furrowing deeply. "But Mama, I'm not tired!"

I tried to put on a stern face and forced myself not to smile at her adorable expression. "You're eight years old, Charlotte."

She shrank a little at that. I felt a little stab of pride at my ability to intimidate her, if only slightly. I had never held that sort of power over anybody.

"Fine, Mama." she said at last, putting down her book and padding down the hall.

When she returned in her nightdress, her dark hair studiously brushed away from her face, she sank into bed and I sat on the edge, marvelling at how I had a hand in the creation of such a perfect little girl. She sat up again and kissed my cheek. "I love you, Mama. Goodnight."

I ran a hand briefly through her hair, inwardly sighing at how its dark brown colouring reminded me directly of the masked man that I had tried time and again to forget.

"Goodnight, my love. Sleep well."

I stood and prepared to walk back down to the party, hoping that her nightmares were not plaguing her again, closing the door as I left.

**xxxx**

**I didn't mean to update this quickly . . . o.O Anyway, this may just seem like filler. While it is, it's for a reason. Erik has to be gone for at least a few chapters. Also, I always thought a supposedly RxC child would be called Lotte. Just sayin'.**

**REVIEW.**

**See you next time.**


	3. Birthday

**Ohey, I promise to update Hiding In Your Shadow soon!**

**Enjoy!**

**xxxx**

"Mama, look what I found!" Lotte rushed towards me with a shell in her deft little hand. I smiled at her. For her tenth birthday she had requested to please, please, pretty please go to the beach. It was hard to refuse her when we hadn't spent a day together in such a long time. Raoul was a few hundred yards away, reading a report on one of the companies he invested in. He had been working more and more over the last two years, though when he was home he tried not to.

"It's very pretty, _amour._" I replied gently. She smiled with satisfaction.

"I know, Mama. I got it for you!" she stated happily. I grinned and pushed a strand of hair from her face.

"Even on your birthday, you are getting me a present."

"Of course, Mama!" she paused and glanced down the beach at her father. "Papa says you're the most beautiful woman in the world! A- and you deserve to be treated like a queen!"

I chuckled quietly to myself at her adorable naïveté. "Well if I am a queen, then you are the princess." I replied. She smiled proudly.

"And Papa is the Vicomte!"

It seemed that we'd absentmindedly walked closer to Raoul, because he was smiling and striding towards us with a spring in his step. He picked Lotte up and span her around; it reminded me of the night on the roof of the opera house when we were younger, and he did the same to me. "Happy birthday, darling." I heard him whisper, holding her tightly. I loved him more for the adoration I saw in his eyes. And I loathed myself still more for the pain I knew that it would one day cause.

**xxxx**

That night after Lotte was asleep I was on the balcony upstairs, watching the sunset. I felt tears spilling down my face and did my best to keep them quiet. But I heard the door opening behind me, and before I turned around there were arms either side of me. Raoul rested his head on my shoulder and I turned my head, sniffling.

"Why the tears, my darling?" he interlaced our fingers and gently sighed.

"Raoul . . ." I mumbled, sniffling again, trying to hide my tears. A hand strayed to my face and wiped a few tears.

"You can tell me." he replied, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"It's . . ." The words were on the tip of my tongue. I could feel the burden being lifted. "It's . . ." Just a few words and there would be no lies between us anymore. All I had to do was come clean. I took a deep breath and tried again. "It's nothing."

I wanted to slap myself.

Raoul turned me and leaned close, scrutinising my face. He gave a half smile and gently kissed me. "I love you." he said as the sun fell below the horizon. I shivered at the cold and he smiled. "Come inside."

I nodded and followed.

**xxxx**

"Mama, tell me a story."

Lotte looked up at me, her trusting, loving eyes reminding me endlessly of Erik.

I frowned.

"A story, love?"

A mischievous smile crept across her lips. "Yes! That is if you have one to tell . . ."

I raised an eyebrow. "Well, then, my dear, I don't suppose I've told you the story of the Angel of Music?"

Her blue, mismatched eyes sparkled. "No, Mama!"

I then proceeded to recount the story of her true father to her. I told her of his young student and how, through her impetuous behaviour, she had lost the Angel. There were points where I had to pause and fight back tears. I had betrayed Erik unbelievably and all he'd done – or tried to do – was loved me wholly like no other man was capable.

But _Raoul_.

"Will I ever see the Angel, Mama?" she asked quietly, adjusting her position against me. I gave a half-smile despite myself. I remembered when I had asked my father the same question. Why had he shown that hesitance? Could he sense something happening in the future?

"Perhaps, darling, perhaps."

She smiled. "Do you remember when you were ten, Mama?"

"I do, indeed."

I remembered being ten. Ten was red scarves and pretty boys and first kisses when we were supposed to be inside, when the sky was starry and the night was warm. Ten was falling in love with Raoul and thinking immaturely that I never-ever-ever wanted to hold anybody else's hand and wondering what that feeling in my stomach was every time he smiled. Ten was thinking the Angel of Music was a distant deity that I could only reach if I tried my hardest every single day. Ten was the best year of my life.

"You know, Little Lotte, you can get a music tutor now."

I looked up to see Raoul leaning casually on the doorframe. Lotte grinned up at him. "Really, Papa?"

"Yes, my love. You show great potential, you know." he sat down next to us and cupped her face, running the pad of his thumb over her small deformity. Dread sank in my stomach – _did he know?_

"Truly?"

"Well, your Mama certainly has the talent." he smiled. "She was once the most famous singer in Paris."

Lotte smiled and her eyes sparkled. "I want to be a singer!"

"A singer in Paris, _ma belle_?"

"Yes! And . . . and London and in the city!" she pointed at the horizon out the front window. Raoul chuckled and wrapped his arms around her.

"You can do whatever you wish to, Lotte."

I watched them in silence. The guilt was heavy on my mind again. The two of them had such a bond. I secretly hoped that Erik wouldn't find me – though something deep within me told me it hadn't been the end on that night – because I didn't want the way we lived ever to change. It was perfect.

**xxxx**

Life changes quickly.

Two weeks after Lotte's tenth birthday there was a letter for me one morning. I had been keeping regular correspondence with Madame Giry and Meg over the years and expected it to be their regular letter, telling me how Meg was now a successful prima ballerina at the Opera Populaire and the new leading soprano, a middle-aged Italian woman that may as well have been Carlotta given her attitude, had been causing trouble.

I was wrong.

It was sealed with what seemed to be the crest of a family, though when I broke the red wax seal and unfolded the letter I was surprised by the title printed across the top of the paper.

_New York Classical Theatre_

I tilted my head and read.

_Madame de Chagny,_

_It has come to our attention that you were once the foremost singer in Paris at the world renowned Opera Populaire. While you have the social reputation of a mere Vicomtesse, we hear that you possess the voice of an angel. And, timorously, we ask if a representative of our theatre may meet with you and discuss the possibility of you taking on a three year contract with us. Our theatre's premiere season is in six months and we'd be most honoured if you considered a position within the company._

_Thanking you in advance for your time,_

_New York Classical Theatre Company_

I raised an eyebrow and placed the letter on the table. Raoul looked up from the morning paper – he found it tiresome to read _en anglais_ though he did it anyway – and smiled. "What is that about, love?"

I handed the letter to him. I watched his green eyes scan over it. He looked up. "I think you should do it." he said gently before correcting himself. "I mean, if you want to. But not if you don't. It's your decision."

I giggled childishly and a slight blush came to his face.

"It's just a meeting, surely I don't have to."

Lotte, who had been sitting quietly eating a croissant, looked up at us with a sour look on her face. Raoul chuckled. "What are you talking about?" she demanded hotly.

"An opera company wants your Mama to perform, my sweet." Raoul replied calmly with a smile on his face. He looked up and winked at me. "What do you think?"

She smiled enthusiastically. "Oh, you simply must, Mama!" she exclaimed. "It would be wonderful!"

I laughed and got up from the table, pressing a kiss to her forehead as I went to change for the day. "We shall see, little one."

I was smiling as I walked upstairs.

**xxxx**

**I haven't fully reviewed this chapter, nor do I have time, so forgive mistakes if you please!**

**. . . Reviews! ^_^**

**See you next time.**


	4. Dreams

**I'll explain my absence below!**

**Enjoy!**

**xxxx**

_Poor young maiden, for the thrill on your tongue of stolen sweets . . ._

Don Juan Triumphant was the most horrible music I had ever heard. For many years it haunted my nightmares, in which I would dream of dark, terrible, _faceless_ monsters.

Apparently Lotte and I had that in common, the difference being that she enjoyed her sickening dreams. I, however, did not. Perhaps it was because I knew who the strange and terrifying being was – she did not know her father, a fact which only shamed me more.

There were nights on which I woke in cold sweats, panting and gasping for air through a constricted throat. I experienced one such nightmare on the night before I was meant to go to a meeting in town regarding the letter I had received.

Raoul had his arms around me and was pulling me into the warmth of his body before I could scream. Soft hands were brushing through my hair and a warm voice was soothing me. I choked back tears and Raoul, in his rough but tuneful voice began to quietly sing the song my father wrote for us one evening: "_Little Lotte, let her mind wander . . ._" I was relaxing into his arms as he chuckled. "They're just dreams."

I nodded and relaxed more. "You know the one Lotte told us about, three nights ago?"

"When she was drowning?" Raoul clarified, and I did not miss the concerned look that crossed his face. I nodded. "Never mind, dear heart, you'll always have your little Vicomte to rescue you, just as he rescued your scarf."

That made me smile. "I love you, Raoul."

"I adore you, Christine. But if you don't mind, it's . . ." he reached for his pocket watch on the bedside table and squinted. "It's . . . half past two, and I should rather like to sleep." Raoul wrapped his arms around me and pulled me back down. "I'm here."

I sighed and melted into my beloved husband's embrace. In tender moments like that, back then, Erik never crossed my mind. I later considered that perhaps it was beyond passionate, frightening Erik's capabilities to love me like that. And I was alright with that – because then, he was nothing more than nightmares, memories, music . . . yes, whenever I faded into music, hummed a few notes, or taught Lotte the little piano that I knew, I could almost feel the chills that used to shoot down my spine as the Angel instructed me, his divine voice filling the old disused dressing room which I met him in every day.

I fell asleep, despite being in Raoul's arms, to thoughts of my teacher, wondering if he was alive, wondering if he was safe, wondering if he still loved me.

A part of me sincerely hoped so.

**xxxx**

When I woke the next morning, I was in bed alone. I rubbed my eyes and walked downstairs to be met with the charming sight of Lotte and Raoul eating breakfast, sharing quiet conversation. Lotte looked up at me with a smile across her face.

"Good morning, Mama!" she said, brightly. I grinned as eagerly as I could.

"How are you, little one?" I asked, sitting down at the dining table across from Raoul, who greeted me with a playful wink.

"Good, Mama . . . l- last night, I heard music . . ."

A furrow formed in my brow. Lotte smiled. "It was in my dreams."

"Beautiful." I replied, trying not to let worry show on my face. "Now, my little angel, you know that you're staying with the neighbours today?"

She nodded. "What are _you_ going to do today, Mama?"

I grinned. "Papa and I are going to see if I can get another job, singing."

Lotte's eyes lit. "In an opera house? With a stage and boxes and an orchestra pit and . . ." she trailed off, looking rather overjoyed. "Oh Mama, could I see a real opera?"

I shook my head, chuckling lightly. "We'll see, alright?" Lotte nodded begrudgingly. I ruffled her black curls. "I promise you can come to a rehearsal _if_ I obtain the position, alright?"

She pouted, lower lip jutting out dramatically. "That's not fair, Mama."

"Lotte," Raoul said, looking up from the morning paper. She looked down and sighed. Raoul smiled at me. "Do you know if you're auditioning today, my love?"

I looked down. "When I replied they only said "meeting". I don't know."

"I hope not . . ."

"Why, Raoul?"

"Talented as you are, dearest, you haven't sung for years, at least not properly."

I nodded understanding and focussed on eating my breakfast for a little while. The thought of being in a new opera house instead of what I remembered – phantoms and angels and growing up too quickly – was, to be honest, very exciting. The only thing I didn't like was Lotte growing up in the same environment as me. As I sat there I fought to convince myself that there would be no Opera Ghost at the new theatre, a horrible feeling of foreboding overtook me. Erik could be there.

_Don't be ridiculous, Christine._

"Mama, will you help with my hair?"

I looked up into my daughter's pale blue eyes, my distracted reverie shattering. I smiled and nodded, standing up. Raoul looked me over with concern.

"Christine, you should have breakfast first." he said, insistence in his voice. I waved him off nonchalantly.

"I will, Raoul." I said, leading Lotte upstairs and to the bathroom where I brushed her hair into a braid. She smiled into the mirror as I secured a red ribbon around the elegant black braid.

"Mother . . ." she said, her voice taking on a deep, serious intonation. I looked into the reflection of her eyes and nodded as I adjusted her hair. "Where did I get the scar under my eye?"

I swallowed heavily and glanced away nervously. "Y- you were . . . b- born with it, Lotte . . ."

She arched an eyebrow. "It's a birth mark?"

I nodded.

She turned and looked me squarely in the eye. "Mama, neither you nor Papa have one like it."

I glanced nervously at my daughter and patted her shoulder, a sudden panic overtaking me. "Maybe it's just one of those things."

My daughter narrowed her eyes but seemed to content herself with this response. She walked from the room and I looked into the mirror for the longest time, remembering the night of Don Juan Triumphant yet again. I had stared into my mirror for far too long, feeling as if I was staring into a pair of eyes rather than my reflection.

Suitably unnerved, I walked downstairs and outside, climbing into the carriage where Raoul was waiting. Our neighbours – the Jacksons, a kind old couple who had been hospitable to us since we came to America ten years before – had taken Lotte while I'd been upstairs and so I only had to worry about getting into the city for my interview. Nerves bubbled in my stomach as I watched my home disappear over the horizon and I listened to my husband reading over the letter, brows knitting as he absentmindedly stroked my hair.

**xxxx**

**Okay, so, hi! I've missed you all so very much. It's been almost a month! D: How irresponsible. I'm on summer break and I have barely written a single thing! **

**Christmas has been a hectic, stressful and unenjoyable time for me, I hope everyone else's has been a whole lot better. Happy New Year, too!**

**I'd appreciate it a lot if you left me a review!**

**See you next time.**


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